


Pieces of Pi(e)

by sg_wonderland



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-14
Updated: 2014-03-14
Packaged: 2018-01-15 17:31:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1313338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sg_wonderland/pseuds/sg_wonderland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because it is Pi Day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pieces of Pi(e)

Summary: Because it is Pi Day  
Rating: Gen

 

Pieces of Pi(e)

 

“Daniel Jackson?”

“Hmmm?” Daniel Jackson adjusts a large piece of glass over the scroll.

“Captain Carter has informed me that it is ‘pi day’.”

“Yeah?” 

My fingers easily encircle Daniel Jackson’s wrist. As a First Prime, I am accustomed to total and prompt attention; this lack of focus is most disturbing. “I do not believe I have your complete attention.”

He carefully lays the scroll down on the soft cloth spread on his desk and strips off the woven gloves. Turning, he apologizes, “You’re right, Teal’c. I wasn’t paying attention and I’m sorry. What do you need?”

Taking this as an unspoken invitation, I seat myself. “Captain Carter informs me that it is ‘pi day’.”

“Pie Day?” His brow furrows. “They’re serving pie in the commissary?”

“I have no knowledge of today’s menu. Captain Carter spoke of a mathematical quality.”

Daniel Jackson’s forehead smooths. “Oh. Pi. It’s a mathematical constant. Actually, it’s pretty fascinating. It can be used in a number of different mathematical applications to solve complex equations.”

“This one…number may be used to solved differing equations?” Daniel Jackson nods. “This does not seem logical. How is that possible?”

A gentle color floods Daniel Jackson’s face. “Actually…I don’t know that much about math…Sam says it works.”

“But how?”

A sudden smile blooms across his face. “To be honest, Teal’c, I don’t know how it works. I just know it does. Listen, if Sam says something works, she’s probably right.” He pauses. “In math, anyway.”

“Then may I ask you another question, Daniel Jackson?”

“Shoot.” 

I leap quickly to my feet, place myself between him and the doorway. “Whom do you wish me to fire upon?”

Daniel Jackson holds out his hands. “Sorry, Teal’c, sit down. It’s just an expression. It means, go ahead, ask away.”

“This pastry is also a pie?”

“Yes, but it’s spelled differently.” He rises to retrieve a board equipped with wheels. Taking a small cylinder in his hand, he proceeds to write the words on the board. “Pie has an e on the end of it and pi doesn’t.”

“This seems unneccesarily confusing.” I confess.

“Oy,” a voice pipes up from the doorway, “just wait until you get to verbs and tenses and stuff like that.” O’Neill saunters in, seating himself on the stool beside me.

I turn to face him. “You are well-versed in these verbs?” Daniel Jackson snorts behind his hand.

Glaring at Daniel Jackson, O’Neill fidgets. He reaches across the table toward the scroll, only to have Daniel Jackson snatch it, quickly removing it from O’Neill’s reach. “You have to learn this stuff in school, Teal’c” I frown. “Not you specifically but, you know, American kids learn it in school.”

“So you are also a scholar, O’Neill, as well as Captain Carter and Daniel Jackson?”

Daniel Jackson emits a sound not unlike that of someone being strangled.

O’Neill charges to his feet. “How about we go to the commissary and check out the only kind of pie that really matters?” Daniel Jackson steps toward his desk, only to have O’Neill grasp the back of his jacket. “Oh, no, you’re not weaseling out of this one.” He propels an unwilling Daniel Jackson toward the door. “Besides, I want to hear you explain the Pied Piper to Teal’c.”

“The Pied Piper?” I enquire as I follow. “This is a person who advertises his pastries with a musical instrument?”

O’Neill and I are confronted with Daniel Jackson’s glare as the elevator doors close in our faces.

O’Neill presses the button to summon another elevator. “Then there’s the piebald…” his eyebrows rise as he contemplates my clean-shaven head.

“You are not amusing, O’Neill.” I face the doors, suppressing the smile that attempts to escape.


End file.
